


Washed Away

by Missy



Category: Evil Dead (1981), Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Flash Fic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Moving On, Regret, Shower Sex, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Ash awhile to overcome his grief and find wholeness.  But he does.  With Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washed Away

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a treat for Fandom_Stocking.

There’s much meat to unpack and many things to remember on their way out of the cabin, gristly globs of gory nightmare that must be washed from their hair and faces like stray chunks of puke after a long party. Ash remembers this, years later, when he’s wiser and taller and sober standing beside a fireplace, watching the fire burn and crackle. He feels the heat of Scotty’s hand on the back of his neck, and the sound of his voice rings like a clarion call over the screeching of the demons.

“Get ‘Em Ash.”

Ash gets ‘em. He paints the world red with the blood of his loved ones to protect his own semi-corrupted soul. They heal the cracks in their skin together and watch the pink dawn roll over the countryside. Ash is grateful for the company, even the sarcasm between them acting like a bracing shot of caffeine. 

Scott is his touchstone to reality; if he can preserve this last link with flesh and dignity then he just might live. 

And they do live, but once he gets them out of the woods but there’s still the matter of the book to solve. It doesn’t burn, it won’t be hidden, and wherever they go chaos rains upon the earth like a driving storm.

They research in the college library overnight, incanting secret black magic in their apartment, trying to break the book’s tether with earth. He works fearlessly toward their extinction with calm certainty. But first, first, they must wash their tired, aching eyes, their dust-streaked faces, their caked and filthy hands. 

If that bathing must be done together for security’s sake, so be it.

Ash had never considered the embrace of another man. Most of that was because of his sacred bond with Linda, the rest a simple single-minded lack of curiosity. But this opportunity was the only one, and the one that made him feel clean and whole. Scott never said as much in return, when his slick hands met Ash’s under the spray. This was not a languorous display, there was no chance to linger or to inject wonder in the ungainly grip of their thrust and stroke of their oversized hands, and certainly not to remember. They came together and into the rich black earth, over the pure clear water turning black red with the blood of the others, the murder-shade that had stained them both devil black with memories of death and fear. 

This was the only clean, safe place – here, together, face-to-face, pressed against the rational warmth of the tiles behind them. It’s the first breath they’ve taken in ages, the first time they’d dared to meet again, eye-to-eye. Ash wore the guilt of it all easily, but Scott – he didn’t think there was anything for him to feel guilty about.

They’d have to make this time their own; without shame or guilt or fear. Ash decided to accept all of Scotty’s disparate sides – the deathmask and the loving embrace.

Of only because there’s no place else to run to.

This kisses aren’t wicked or pure, but they’re real and true: like concrete under their feet, like wheels on gravel and a long dirt road. They are safe, collectively and separately. They’ll be fine if they can hold on like this forever.


End file.
